​When I meet with clients who have been injured through no fault of their own, while preparing their cases, one of the questions I ask of them is “what is the worst part of what happened to you.” Most of them say, it’s the pain. Then I ask them, “what does the pain feel like?” and many answer “it just hurts.” Obtaining further information can be a lot like pulling teeth (pun intended, and you’ll get it when you read on) so I follow up with “what would you have to do to me to duplicate the pain you feel?” and this is when the answers get good:
 
“I would have to stab you in your lower back with an ice pick and twist” “I’d set a mountain gorilla on you and have him squeeze – it just takes your breath away” “I’d have to give you the worst toothache ever in your neck.”
 
That last one, I imagine was a description of a dull, constant throbbing pain, but I never had a toothache. Seriously. I avoid the dentist like I avoid Walmart during Covid-19 or cold/flu season. I have severe dental anxiety, even though most visits, aside from being uncomfortable, are completely uneventful. Sure, I’ve had 2 or 3 fillings in my time due to wear and tear, but never a painful cavity.  I’m embarrassed to admit, that I go years in between cleanings because I hate and fear the process so much. I went my entire 44 years of life without experiencing dental pain, that is until last February.
 
I started having this uncomfortable pain in my mouth. So I put on my brave girl pants, and headed to a dentist I heard nice things about and he confirmed, you need to have wisdom tooth extraction. In fairness to this nice man, I had heard this recommendation for years, but this time the problem was that there was a cavity on my wisdom tooth causing my pain. Plus the others weren’t far behind. I agreed that it was time to take care of this problem and took the referral card for an oral surgeon in town. Then Covid shut it all down and mysteriously, my tooth ache kind of went away. Kind of. I was warned by everyone I spoke to that I “need to take care of this…it’ll only get worse.” It wasn’t so bad anymore and I just didn’t have the time…
 
With the State of New Jersey shut down and our law practices turning almost exclusively virtual, I picked up the pace with my caseload. With no distractions like commuting or trial calls or sitting around a courthouse, “waiting to be reached” on a motion or conference, suddenly I found extra hours to churn out work. I was so proud of my super productivity. Even with the uncertainty of it all, I fell into a routine and a pace that I thought I could sustain. I may have put on a few pounds in those months (wine deliveries), but I was healthy and getting it done. Lady boss quality stuff. Even with Anna in virtual school last spring, with “mom, I need help” being shouted at me from the kitchen, usually at inconvenient times, it was all working out ok. That is, until the tooth pain cometh.
 
The pain came back, and in the words of our former President, it returned “BIGLY.” It became intolerable. I complained constantly. It brought tears to my eyes. It required pain medication and ice packs. I couldn’t think straight. I was short-tempered (not just short-statured). I couldn’t sleep. And because I couldn’t sleep, I was tired and unfocused. I was moody and emotional. It’s impossible to be a boss-lady-litigator/mommy/housekeeper/partner/dance studio director/musical theater teacher when your face hurts all the time. It was definitely time for action. I called the oral surgeon, she confirmed my fears, but reassured me she was really good at her job and I was going to be just fine. She told me, we would have fun. She is a very beautiful liar.
 
Ironically, on the afternoon of February 19th, 2021, the 12th anniversary of perhaps one of the most important jury verdicts of my life against a local oral surgeon who molested his patients while they were under anesthesia for wisdom tooth extraction, I underwent oral surgery for wisdom tooth extraction. I went in with a sense of dread and overwhelming anxiety. I liked this dentist a lot and I trusted her, but I knew what was about to happen wasn’t going to be that much fun. I was right about that as I continue to recover. It’s not going great and they don’t give you the “good stuff” anymore. I have to rely on Extra-strength Tylenol and whatever Scotch or Whiskey we have laying around – I’m old-fashioned like that.
 
The take away from this experience has been two-fold: first, we really have to stop ignoring ourselves and self-care. Self-care always seemed to me to be a namby-pamby, frou-frou idea that justified massages, pedicures and “Treat Yo’ Self” style indulgences. It’s not. Had I just taken care of my tooth pain when it first reared it’s ugly head, I probably wouldn’t be dealing with the residual issues now that are interfering with just about everything from work to sleep to fun stuff like folding laundry (ok, that’s not really fun, but my excuse for not doing it is and has been “babe, my mouth hurts, I need you to do it.” Babe is thrilled.)
 
Second, when it comes to our injured clients, and the way we tell their stories of harms and losses, of pain and suffering, I now have a much better relatable experience to what they must go through, especially my spine injured clients. Only their pain doesn’t always resolve (and hopefully mine finally does) even with surgical intervention. All of my complaints – the lack of sleep, the emotional issues, the way a stupid tooth could interrupt my entire life – are very similar to the way our clients feel, daily. Even though it’s kind of terrible now, and I am writing this after waking up in agony in the middle of the night, I will feel better, or should, by next week. Our clients with permanent injuries won’t.
 
Although my wisdom tooth experience is a big, fat “I told you so” from everyone, it’s also a broader learning experience in the art of telling my client’s story. I’d like to even say this experience has made me a better trial lawyer. Let’s say that. And yes, I solemnly swear to make my dentist appointments on a regular basis from now on.
 
###

Making the leap from lady-boss-queen solo lawyer back to a law firm, and a large national law firm at that, should have been much more difficult. In theory, transitioning from the practice I had been building to one in existence longer than I have been in existence should have been a challenge. It really was not. I found my place and folded into it rather seamlessly. The most wonderful part of this whole change has been that I can once again sleep at night. I don't worry about making payroll or paying taxes (on everything). Now my worries are the normal trial lawyer worries, which are completely manageable. (Plus, there's scotch).

Perhaps, the greatest fear I had, which was instantly put to rest, was that I would lose my individuality as an attorney. My bosses assured me out of the gate that I was brought onto the team for who I am as much as for what they know I can do for the firm. In other words, I would not be hidden back within the shadows of a large firm where someone else more senior to me would take credit for my successes or ideas. I had been down that road before and certainly did not want to head back that way. And true to their word, my firm is clearly a place where growth is encouraged and there are wonderful incentives for hard work. I believe I have found my tribe and my home, legally speaking.

The challenge I needed to overcome in order to get myself to even knock on the door of opportunity was the feeling that I had failed as a small business person/girl boss. There was no mistaking it: I hated having to manage everything. Maybe if I had chosen a less litigation intensive practice area, I could have hung on longer, but I felt and have always felt an obligation to help people injured through no fault of their own. I have this mission to try to help make our communities safer by holding people who break safety rules accountable, whether that be drivers or business owners, medical professionals or hospitals and nursing homes. Real Estate closings have never been part of my vision. 

Ultimately, I'm glad to have had the experience I did out on my own. I assembled a hard working and exceptionally smart team of legal assistants and paralegals who dedicated themselves to helping our clients, and who would go above and beyond for them and for me. To be sure, I learned that loyalty means a lot to me. And I also learned that people can be very self centered and selfish and have no problem taking advantage of you, despite having a front seat view of a situation. The answer to, "After everything I have done, this is how you treat me?" Is "Yup." (I didn't actually ask that question with those words to anyone, because that would have been very whiny and not lady boss-like.) That's an unfortunate trait of some humans. Some people have no problem taking. 

People thought I was brave to go out on my own with nothing more than a really good stapler and a couple pens "borrowed" from the bank. Others thought I was an idiot with a pie-in the sky vision that was unsustainable. Well, rather than give in to the "I told ya so" crew, I'd rather chalk it all up to experience and say that I've come to the place I wanted to be because I had that vision. I grew from zero clients and files to a full filing cabinet of important cases in two short years. And I am now a partner with one of the most highly regarded injury law firms in NJ, maybe even the country. I get to collaborate with some of the best legal minds around on a daily basis. That's not bad, not bad at all. And I still have my really good stapler. 

Note: More changes are coming soon. My amazing friends at BizBudding are reinventing my website, http://LaurenDFraser.com as a central hub for all my blog posts, past, present and future and all of my news about the law and my books. Be sure to check back periodically to see what's new. Stay safe out there and stay fierce.

####

Not to brag, but I will; a few weekends ago I ran a 5K Trail Race with some of my running friends. 3.2 miles through fields, up and down the side of a rocky, root covered, mountain.  I haven't been running as much as I have in the past because we've had a ridiculously rainy summer and I've been busy doing other stuff, so I didn't expect very much in terms of being competitive in this race. Frankly, even when I have achieved some award at a race, it was not because I was expecting or even trying to run competitively.  I never run expecting to win anything or beat anybody. I try to better my own time. And not die.

In any case, I received a medal - 2nd place in the 40-49 year old Female age group, about 2:30 minutes behind my friend, who won our age group. My team did really well, winning the Overall Male and Overall Female awards, plus 2nd Place Overall Female. I was proud of my team, and that's an understatement. I threw up a bunch of photos and posts on social media bragging on my winning team. And we all had my new law firm running shirts on, which made our success even sweeter.

After that morning, I felt good. Not only about how great my team did or adding another medal to my nifty wall display at the office (early relationship Christmas gift from my man-friend, Chester Copperpot), but I felt good that I accomplished something that I never thought I could; that other people told me I couldn't do for various reasons. 

​But then Monday came, and I received a nasty-gram in response to an email where I was attempting to be a nice person and give someone a way out of the bullshit swamp of lies he created, unfortunately in violation of a court ordered agreement we have. Part of his defense, as it usually is, is to distract from the issue by crapping on me. This is always infuriating, but this particular time it hit home. He was essentially calling me a failure. And suddenly, my cool 2nd place -running up a mountain - bad ass - winner medal didn't matter. Was he right? 

As I sat at my desk reading and re-reading this paragraph - the "I told you so" part and the "you know as well as anyone how difficult building a law practice is from the ground up..." I started to doubt myself and my vision. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was biting off more than I could chew? 

I went to grab lunch and run some errands. At the bank, as I made yet another deposit into my business account, I started chuckling. Then it was a good laugh, and I felt a little badly because the guy at the drive thru window probably thought I was laughing at him. It was a bit weird. But as I dropped my checks and deposit slip into the clear vacuum tube, it dawned on me; I was doing it. I was building my practice - with a little help from my friends, of course, but the vision was already taking shape. It's a slow build, like the slow clap in 90's teen movies after someone stands up for the weird kid.

One of the things I am trying to stop myself from doing is listening to anyone or anything - like the nasty voice in my head that sometimes tells me I can't do something - who isn't going to offer support. Undoubtedly, this vision of mine is the most difficult task I have ever tackled. But I'm doing it. I'm surrounded by supportive staff and colleagues who believe in my vision too. 

At one point during my 3.2 miles up and down the mountain, I felt like I needed to stop. I turned my ankle a little weirdly on a wet rock and felt a pain up into my knee. I looked at my Garmin running watch and saw I only had about 1/2 a mile left. I could see the bright pink logo of my law firm in the woods ahead of me. The finish line - the goal - was up ahead, so I pushed through and kept going. I didn't set the world on fire with my finish time, but I finished. 

I had been told that I would never be able to run trails or run at all. But I was doing it, improving with every attempt, and loving every moment. I get to do it with my good friends and my little girl. 

So nasty emails and nasty voices can suck it!  I'm going finish what I started. There is no doubt. 

###
​

I remember it was a very clear day. Not a cloud in the sky as I pulled up to Cindy's apartment building at 7:30. I got out of my car to take off my jacket and realized there was something on my beige suit pants - of course. It was a full day of law school classes and then work on the main campus in the Office of Undergraduate Admission immediately after for both of us on that Tuesday, beginning with Tax Law at around 8:50 am. 

I remember our tax professor wasn't there, which was odd because she was always early to class. When she swooped in late she apologized. There was something wrong with the trains heading out of the World Trade Center, she told us. 

I remember Russ Cote talking at the back of the classroom, sitting in the top row, closest to the door with his laptop open. I remember him saying, "holy shit," and rushing over to the large window at the other end of the classroom. I remember him saying, "holy shit, a plane just hit the World Trade Center. It's on fire." I remember a few other classmates rushing to see and reiterating Russ', "holy shit" statement just as Dean Hobbs came into our 3rd floor classroom and said, "We need to evacuate. All Federal Buildings are being evacuated." Our school was attached to a Federal Building. 

I remember grabbing my book, my notebook and Cindy and heading to the hallway to our lockers. I remember everyone speculating what happened as we stuffed books and sweatshirts into our backpacks. I remember knowing what had happened already and I remember feeling very sick.

I remember stopping in the student lounge where the news was on the large TV. Cindy gasped, "Brad is down there," she said. I assured her that he probably wasn't. And as we watched the replay of the second plane crashing into the south tower, one of the other women in the lounge realized her husband was there, working on the 77th floor. 

I remember Dean Hobbs coming in and comforting her while telling the rest of us to get out of the building, we were under orders to evacuate. I pulled Cindy by the hand. "Let's go to the car and call Brad."

I remember the sirens, already, even in Newark as Cindy and I rushed with all of our books to my car parked in the NJPAC lot, a block away. I remember trying to call my friend Sam who took the train downtown every morning to go to his law school in NY. I couldn't get through. No calls were going through. I remember telling Cindy as she sat crying in my passenger seat, we'd call Brad from a landline when we got home. 

I remember leaving Newark and looking in my rear view mirror at the NYC skyline that had been pristine and sparkling in the clear, blue day only 90 minutes before this. It was now a cloud of smoke. I remember thinking we were in some movie remake of Escape from New York.

I remember getting back to my apartment and immediately turning on the TV just in time to watch the south tower fall. I remember Cindy was hysterical now - she couldn't reach Brad. I told her he wasn't there, but I didn't know. I told her the trains stopped at 8:45 and he wasn't even leaving for work until 8:30, he was probably just stuck in Hoboken or Jersey City with his camera, doing his best to capture photos for the Associated Press. That made sense. 

I remember calling Sam over and over and calling my fiance who was working in Jersey City. Where was everyone? 

I remember seeing the planes hit the towers and explode over and over again, the people running, covered in white ash.

I remember my phone finally ringing around 2 pm. It was Sammy - he made it uptown. He had been exiting the World Trade Center from the train as the first plane hit, but he was fine. He ran and kept running and now he was in Brooklyn.

Then it was Pete calling about an hour later. He saw both planes hit from his office in Jersey City, directly across from downtown. He saw people jumping from the buildings to escape the fire and flames, but jumping to their deaths. He saw the people - both survivors and bodies come across the Hudson as a triage station was set up near his building. He saw the first tower fall and the second. He hitchhiked up the NJ Turnpike with a co-worker and a nice guy drove them to New Brunswick. He was at the old fraternity house, if I could come get him. I remember asking why he didn't just try to come home to South Orange and he said, "I couldn't think. I needed to go. The smell...it was like a barbecue and burnt hair..."

I remember Brad, who as I suspected, had never made it all the way to the city, came to my apartment to get Cindy around 4:30 and I left on an adventure to New Brunswick to recover Pete. I remember the Garden State Parkway was empty. I remember the guy on the radio telling me that the governor had issued a state of emergency and only essential vehicles would be permitted on the roads. Oops. 

I remember reaching the fraternity house on College Avenue and hearing about so and so who didn't make it out or was missing. The guys sat together drinking crappy beer and smoking on the front porch. I sat down too and took a cup of whatever was in the keg and lit a Parliament.  Every so often the silence was broken with someone yelling the F-word and declaring "this was bullshit."

I remember not saying a word but feeling the darkness of the world enveloping me and I was scared. I remember telling Pete, we should get home and seeing his face. He was scared too. 

I remember the two days following 9/11. There was no school, no work. The super from my building knocked on our door one night and asked if we knew where the people in 303 were. How about the guy in 306? They hadn't been home since Tuesday morning. 

I remember trying to return to business as usual in the days and weeks later. I remember my boss telling me someone from the FBI might want to talk to me about some of the international students I admitted to the undergraduate school over the last year. I remember being told to hold all applications from Syria, Saudi Arabia, Egypt and North Africa and put them aside. I remember thinking maybe I didn't want this job anymore.  

It's difficult to believe that all of this happened 17 years ago today because I remember so much. I remember my drive from South Orange to Newark on Route 280 - how I loved to see the NYC skyline each morning because it reminded me of my grandfather and theater and excitement, and how for weeks, it was a cloud of smoke. I remember the burning smell. I remember the non-stop news coverage. And I remember the fear. No one spoke about it; we just felt it.

On this day that many of us remember so well, I still feel that pit of anxiety in my stomach, still. That desire to just cry over lost friends and family, over a lost sense of security hits me by 8 am every September 11th. I hate that this world is a dark place, full of dark, evil, psychotic people. But on this day, I also remember how the country came together. I remember that we still have our guys overseas hunting and fighting those dark, evil psychos. I may never feel as safe as I did on September 10, 2001, but there is some security knowing that as Americans, we fight back, we never give up and we never forget.

###

Despite what some people may believe, the first thing out of an injured client's mouth upon meeting with me is not "how much money can I get?" Frankly, if it was, I likely wouldn't interested in representing that client. In fact, it is not until I begin the conversation with them, usually prompted by some contact with the insurance adjuster for the other side, that the topic of compensation arises. 

Something that most people (and even some out of state lawyers or lawyers who do not handle this kind of work) do not realize is that at the time of trial in a personal injury case, we cannot ask for a specific amount of money from a court or a jury to make up for what happened to an injured person. We can't even tell the jury that 1) there is insurance (although most people kind of figure this out) or 2) how much insurance there is. All that we are permitted to tell the jury is that they are responsible for deciding how much money an injured person should receive for what happened to him. All they are allowed to consider are the harms and losses to that person. That's it. Nothing else.

But for pre-trial settlement purposes, how do we measure the value of a personal injury case? A number of different factors weigh into this analysis and here are some of them: 

1. Who's fault was the accident? Liability is the first question I have to answer for a jury if and when a case goes to trial. If an accident is caused by the injured person, there is no need for me to continue the conversation. For one thing, I can't take that case on and represent that person. If you cause your own injury, you are not entitled to compensation (except in super rare instances that I'm not going to bother discussing here). Liability has to rest with some other person or entity. An accident needs to be through no fault of the injured person (or limited fault at most) in order to even have a case worth pursuing. So as long as we know someone else is responsible for the bad thing that happened, we are in good shape.

2. What are the extent of the injuries? This is a little tricky and relies heavily on objective medical evidence which includes Xrays, MRIs, CT scans and other diagnostic tools that can show an injury to a doctor. If a client has broken a bone, that bone will likely and hopefully heal with the right treatment. But some injuries, like injuries to the spine in the form of herniated discs or even bulging discs in some instances, tend to be permanent injuries. A permanent injury has greater "value" than an injury that can be healed or cured. And that just makes sense because the impact on a person's life will be more significant when they have a permanent spinal injury in their neck vs. a broken arm. 

3. What are the harms and losses? Harms and losses are the things that throw a person's life off balance resulting from an injury. If you think about an injured person's life as the scales of justice, for every bad thing that has resulted from a car crash; pain and suffering, the inability to take part in activities and hobbies, the loss of the enjoyment of life, etc..., compensation has to weigh as much as the harms to bring the person's life back into balance. A jury's verdict has to weigh as much as the harm done. 

Everyone's life is different - what we do, how we live - so how an injury affects a person's life is going to be an individualized analysis. At least in my geographic area, injured people who give up their life activities and stop working are not well compensated by juries. But injured people who try to continue their lives despite their injuries, limitations and discomfort tend to obtain better results at trial. I think this has to do with the fact that no one likes a quitter - hard work is rewarded. Obviously, in some cases, working becomes impossible for some injured people, or at least working the job they had - especially when an injured person owns their own business or it's physical in nature. By and large though, a client who describes their life as full and active before a car crash and almost completely empty after, despite a zillion attempts to perform household and recreational activities with their family, tends to do better in front of a jury. 

4. What are the policy limits? As I have said before, this is an insurance world, we just live in it. The policy limits of both the person who caused the crash and the injured person weigh into the analysis of settlement value. If the person who caused the crash (lets call him the "tortfeasor,"because that's what we learned to call that person in law school) has a liability policy of insurance on his vehicle of $100,000.00 per person and the injured person has an underinsured policy with $250,000.00 with his insurance, the available insurance coverage in NJ is $250,000.00 because we go with whoever has the higher amount. So if a person is significantly injured, they can conceivably collect $100,000.00 from the tortfeasor and an additional $150,000.00 from their own policy. This is a pre-trial resolution without the necessity of hiring many experts or incurring much expense. Of course, most cases do not resolve very quickly or easily, but at times we are guided by the policy limits in the case as we attempt to resolve the case without the necessity of litigation.

​5. What are the jury verdicts or settlements in our area for similar cases? ​In order to determine a range of possible settlement values, smart lawyers always do (or should always do) a jury verdict search to determine the ranges or possibilities of a verdict. We look up similar injuries, demographic information and the like to get an idea of "what a case is worth." Again, every case and every jury is different so being definitive is not possible. However, researching prevailing values of settlements and verdicts can help resolve a case with an insurance company for the policy limits. It can also help maintain a substantial verdict if the defense appeals it on the premise that "it's too much money." 

When you are living with a permanent injury that you got because someone else was negligent, it's really a life sentence to live with pain, discomfort and limitations. I tell clients and juries alike, "If we could go back in time and stand at Bob's front porch on December 13, 2015 and tell him, 'Bob, if you leave the house now, you will be involved in a bad car wreck that will change your life forever,' we would do that, but we can't. The best we can do and the best our system of justice allows is to help balance the harms and losses in Bob's life with a money amount equal to those harms and losses." 

Our current system of injury compensation in NJ is largely based upon available insurance, unless you  are unfortunate (or fortunate) enough to get rear-ended by a Vanderbilt or a Kennedy or someone with substantial assets. Ultimately, a time machine where we could go back and change the history of a crash or a fall would be the way any of my injured clients would prefer to deal with their claims. No one wants to live with a permanent injury. The struggle is with the insurance companies to get them to fairly evaluate and compensate an injury claim; the insurance industry for unfairly trying to poison our jury pools, spreading propaganda about "fraud" or "mayhem;" and then with the jury to offer enough information allowing it to compensate an injured person in a way that will bring their life into balance. 

This is a challenging struggle to which I have devoted my career, pursuing justice and fairness on behalf of injured people. On one hand, I'm somewhat glad the insurance companies are so unfair at times because their "no pay" or "deny, delay, defend" attitudes provide me with a job. On the other hand, I kind of want to send some of the remote adjusters who refuse to be reasonable a tray of cookies laced with laxatives. Luckily for them, I don't bake.


​###
 

I cut bangs yesterday. Well, this time, I had a professional at Mancuso Salon, across the street from my law office, cut my bangs. You see friends,  I have a history of drinking wine and taking paper scissors to the front of my hair to create that "edgy, bad ass Lauren" look to reflect my insides. That choice always goes badly for me. I regret it almost immediately and tell my friends, "next time I say I want bangs, remind me that I definitely don't want bangs."

"I think I'm going to get bangs," I reported to my office earlier this week. Because my staff genuinely cares for my well being (and know very well how this potential decision can affect their well being at the office - more complaining than usual from the ol' boss lady), they immediately reminded me I should not do that. I showed them the pictures I had pinned from Pinterest...

"But look, my hair can do this. This can work this time," I declared confidently.

"That's what you said the last time," replied Benjamin. He's right, I did.

"It's going to be different this time, I know it!"

Trying to convince me that I'm wrong might be the most difficult task anyone can undertake. Certainly when I am wrong about something, I admit it and move on from it eventually. I have been very, very wrong about many, many things. "Trump is never going to make it past the GOP Primary." Wrong.  "A lease is fine. I definitely won't go over my miles in the first 18 months I drive the car." Wrong again. 

So I felt for my co-workers and my amazing boyfriend as I sat in my stylist's chair and watched 6 inches of hair fall in front of me. Bangs. Boom. There I was. New look, new attitude.

It amazes me that all it takes to remind me I'm a bad- ass- lady- lawyer- boss- babe is to change my look a little. I thought the tattoo I got last November would do the trick, but when I tell people what it is, a Celtic Mother Daughter symbol, the reaction I get is not "Whoa! That's bad ass," it's, "That is so sweet."  No people, tattoos are not sweet. Damnit! (When my mom saw it, she had a different reaction of course. And now I can't be buried in a Jewish cemetery since I've desecrated my body and stuff. Sorry mom. I'm probably too bad ass for a Jewish cemetery anyway, membership in my HS Marching Band, notwithstanding.)

Pleased with my new look, I took a selfie. I have so many photographer friends, I have picked up a few pointers on lighting so I turned around awkwardly and shot my selfie. Pretty, pretty, pretty good if you ask me. Then I did what any self respecting middle-aged bad ass woman would do, I filtered it and posted it on Instagram. 

Then I sent it as a text to Benjamin and some of my closest friends. The compliments poured in from all over - "Love it!" "Sexy" "You look beautiful..." My expanding head was deflated back to its normal proportions when Benjamin responded:

"Did you use a filter?"

Me: "No"

Him: "Don't lie to me." 

Me: "Fine. Yes. I filtered it to post it on Instagram." (Note: Instagram filters are really flattering, especially if you adjust the light and color...)

Benjamin knows me and is also intimately familiar with my face. Specifically, he is fully conscious of the field of zits inhabiting my chin following this months break-out, that happened to be missing from this photo - makeup helps hide them, but they are a vicious gang of hormone induced jerks. The largest of the group, the leader, is an angry zit that communicates in three languages.  It's disturbing.

In any case, my admission that I filtered and doctored my photo brought on immense guilt. Would a true bad-ass lady post a misleading photo of herself just to get compliments from the social media community? I felt like a jerk. Not only am I not getting buried in a Jewish cemetery, but I'm letting down feminists and woman-kind. Why did I even get out of bed today? (I remember, because it was bangs day.)

I proceeded to try to redeem my reputation, at least with my best friend and love of my life, and sent him the original, unfiltered version of the photo. Really, it wasn't that bad. You can kind of see the zits (yay for Younique BB Cream and cover-up) and you can definitely see that my face isn't smooth or laugh-line/wrinkle free as the filtered version would make you believe. I vowed to Benjamin that I would clear up my misleading photo with a blog post, and here we are. 

Here's the thing: I don't know a lot of celebrities or even friends who don't use a filter when they post a photo on social media these days. The technology exists to make ourselves look younger, thinner, prettier, smarter (You can actually add glasses to your face on Snapchat and some other apps), so why shouldn't we use it? And we're all doing it. What's the harm?

The harm is, we are all living by comparison and hurting ourselves emotionally and mentally. We are so obsessed with what everyone else looks like or has in their lives because of social media, that we worry ourselves - make ourselves sick over it whether we realize it or not. 

The filtered, Facebook lives of some of our friends would make us believe they are happy, sun-kissed, smooth - skinned, fit-model millionaires. And we are big, wrinkled, frizzy haired, poor losers with boring lives, crappy jobs and terrible kids. Newsflash friends- that's all a bunch of crap!  All of it. 

Here's the thing, only the most honest, good humored, bad-ass, balls to the wall, people out there will ever admit to the world of social media that things aren't going that great. Sure, we've got those friends who occasionally surf Pinterest at night searching for quotes and memes to passively aggressively inform our loved ones that "We deserve better than this." (Me)  And we have those friends who over-share stories of the horrors of child-rearing at times giving the impression that the State should probably intervene. (Also me).  The rest of us are wimps. We are. Or more accurately perhaps, we don't want to burden the world with news of how crappy our day just went or how bad our hair looks. Social Media typically reflects the very best moments in people's lives. 

It's not that we are lying about our lives on social media or intentionally misleading people (I hope), it's just that we want to share the things we are most proud of - we ran an ultra race, graduated from college, our kid kicked ass at his piano recital, it's our anniversary, no one threw up today (moms, you feel me).  But the filters change that concept. Now, we're being a little misleady (not a word, I know, just work with me language purists.). 

And I'm not judging. I'm not saying don't filter. I'm not saying I'm going to stop filtering my posted pictures when necessary. What I am saying is, don't believe the "fake news" that you see and for the love of Peter Griffin, do not let that sh*t get you down. Envy is a dangerous vice. Please don't get caught up in other people's fantasy worlds and believe you are somehow inferior or insignificant in your life. Don't compare, even though it is so difficult to avoid those feelings.

See through the filters, click on "like" (because that is the polite thing to do) and remember we are all just trying to do our best to get by each day. Then jump over to Snapchat and take a bad ass selfie of yourself as an adorable woodland creature. Life can never be that bad when you are disguised as a little bunny. 

####

Two years ago today, I went to a surprise 50th birthday party for the boyfriend of one of my favorite human friends. I had met the boyfriend many years before at a mutual friend's party, before he and my girlfriend began dating, and then one other time while they were dating. Needless to say, I was definitely not someone he would expect to see at this somewhat intimate surprise celebration on a party bus headed to a boardwalk bar at the NJ Shore.

My girlfriend and I had reconnected recently over shared life experiences and she invited me to her beloved's celebration because a) based on our conversations, it sounded like I needed to get out, let loose and have fun, and b) she had a couple cancellations and needed to fill the bus to be able to foot the bill. So I said "yes" not knowing it was going to be the greatest "yes" I had ever uttered (or one of the best...and I don't mean that in a pervy, sexy way...). This "yes" with surprisingly little hesitation given the fact that I knew maybe two other people going to this party (because we are related) has turned out to be one of the best decisions I have made to date (going from blonde to brunette, notwithstanding) and it almost didn't happen. 

The anxiety cocktail kicked in a few days before the event. My inner voices were explaining why this party was going to be a bad idea: 1) I don't know anyone; 2) the birthday boy probably won't even remember meeting me; 3) what if the people suck? I'm trapped on a bus for 2.5 hours each way; 4) I'm not going to have fun - I don't even like the shore 5) it's going to be super hot and humid, my hair will be out of control and nobody needs to see that...I needed to tell my girlfriend I wasn't going to make it after all. This party thing was a dumb idea.

But first, I asked my sister how I should approach the subject. My sister and brother in law were also going to the party, and both of them mocked me until I relented. "Fine!  I'll go, but you jerks better hang out with me at this thing." (Spoiler alert: They didn't.)  The morning of the surprise, I was still wrestling with the idea of sending the "I'm so sorry, something came up. Have fun" text ten minutes before bus boarding time.

So I show up and step onto the bus. I sat down and started chatting with a woman who I recognized from the women's club tennis team I had been occasionally playing with that spring and summer. The bus began filling with a lot of people who seemed to know each other. I could feel myself sweating already. This was going to be a long ride. 

Three guys got on the bus together. I made eye contact with one of them and internally chastised myself. Meeting guys and talking to them were really not on my agenda. I had been separated for quite a while, my ex already seriously dating someone else, and I had just very emotionally ended a dead-end relationship of my own. Flirting or having conversations with men were not part of my plan to remain heartbroken and miserable. But I wasn't going to be rude.

One of the guys asked if the seat next to me was taken. I probably stuttered something stupid, because I am so smooth. And he began to chat me up, but first offered to get me a beer. I liked him already. He asked me some stuff as the noise level on the bus began to rise. I explained that I had just returned from LA a few days before having spoken at a national lawyers' convention and I was also there to meet with my writing partner. He didn't seem all that impressed with that information, nor did he ask any follow up questions. Instead, he excused himself and went to talk to another woman directly across from us. "Nice talking to you, too, buddy!" 

My brother in law took pity on me and led me to where he and my sister were seated. I was introduced to a bunch of very nice people, most of whom were members of the trail running club to which I now belong. When we finally reached our destination, I felt comfortable enough having met these nice people, to continue conversing. It looked as though I might actually enjoy myself, which was something I had found impossible at social events, by myself. Perhaps today was the exception. (Also: I had a few IPAs in me from the bus ride. Feeling pretty, pretty, pretty good.)

I headed to the bar and the guy from the bus offered to buy me a Summer Shandy. That was nice. I went off and danced with my girlfriend, my sister and some of my new acquaintances and noticed the guy seemed to be watching me. I asked my sister "what's his deal?" Her response was "not your type."  Sounded like a challenge. Unfortunately, I was not up for challenges. It didn't fit with my current "miserable and heartbroken" self. 

At one point in the afternoon, I needed some fresh Jersey Shore, Boardwalk air.  Outside I went. "Bus boy" found me there and asked to join me. We picked up on the small talk sitting on a boardwalk bench.

I learned that he was my younger sister's age; he learned and was surprised I was not 25 (marry me?), had a kid and was dealing with a divorce. He suggested we get a giant slice of pizza (again, marry me?) and the conversation continued. He lived in my old hometown, owned his own home, had a dog, was very close with his family, had a Masters degree...then one of the women I had been dancing with earlier came up to us and reported there was another band and dancing on the roof and we should go do that. Of course we should.  He tells me "I don't really dance." I tell him, "I most seriously do." He danced. 

In fact, we danced until it was time to leave. Back on the bus, I hoped the night never would end, and by some strange magic, it hasn't. Since that day, two years ago, there hasn't been a day we have not been in contact. We started seeing each other as friends and then started dating a month later. Another month later it was just him and me. 

Looking back now on what we count as our anniversary day, I realize just how one tiny decision to not be an anti-social loser has led to a whole new and amazing life experience. I wasn't expecting that getting on a party bus with a bunch of strangers would now be one of the best choices I have ever made. I was looking for "Benjamin" and I found him. I also found 40 + new friends and running buddies. 

I'm a risk taker, as we all know - primarily in non-life threatening situations - and when it came to relenting and getting on that bus, the juice was worth the squeeze. The internal struggle- "what if this is terrible vs. what if this is wonderful " played out in my mind the days before the party. 

Once we have a positive experience from taking a chance, even as seemingly innocuous as just saying yes to a party invitation (and actually showing up), taking other risks becomes easier. The risk of starting my own law firm, for example, although continuously terrifying and challenging, became an easier "yes" because the internal "what if this sucks vs. what if it's awesome" conflict became easier to resolve. Most things are difficult- work, relationships, living an authentic life, running up a mountain - so the fear of something being terrible can be overcome with the possibility of it being the best thing ever. Little chances we take can sometimes result in big, rewards. 

Like anybody in a relationship, we aren't perfect, but we have had some truly perfect moments. We make a great team. I am grateful and incredibly proud to have this wonderful man on my side and at my side.

Benjamin hates when I make public proclamations of love and get all mushy-gushy, but it's our special day so I think he'll give me a pass this time. 

I'm just so glad you were on that bus. xoxoxo 

###

Life lately has been a bit "extra" as my young and hip millennial friends would say. Extra stressful, extra busy and also extra challenging and exciting, with a sprinkle of fun here and there. Running a business has still to prove itself as the "ultimate, best professional decision I have ever made," as my friend and mentor has referred to her experience. I eat, sleep and dream budgets and payroll and taxes. And then, there are my cases and my clients - each amazing and challenging in their own right. 

​This new adventure brings with it so many more worries than I ever had to deal with when I was at my old firm (at the big firm, there were plenty of other frustrations, but it's been over a year since I've had to concern myself with those. Bygones.). But since re-branding and reorganizing this spring, the office is a much more enjoyable place to work for me and my amazing team. And we have lots of snacks. 

Unfortunately, the stresses of trying to build something from nothing have been taking their toll on me. I have seemed to have lost the ability to just say no to the office snacks, late night snacks, early afternoon snacks, mid morning snacks, basically any and all snacks. I've also lost the ability to regain my after work routines. 

I've been "leaning" into everything this year because that bad ass lady book told me to. I've been stressing myself out with no consistent outlet to release that stress. I'm a hands on person with everything in my life and as my stress level rose to an all time high, a few months ago, I recognized that perhaps it was time to lean back, rather than lean in so far. 

Business stuff aside, everything else was driving me bananas from my relationships to dealing with my ex, to my family. As usual, I'm helping to put out fires everywhere else as smoke is starting to seep out of my own roof, but the hose has a kink in it.

Probably around Mothers Day (partly because I liked the symbolic nature and partly because I like to ruin holidays - not really, but it's been known to happen), I threw down the gauntlet. I was tired of not getting what I wanted and needed. So in a classic "F that S" moment (my mom says she has really had enough of my  bad language. I call bulls*#t, but whatevs...I'll try to contain myself. Although I should point out that my mom made me ride the bus to school through High School and as everyone and their much more tolerant mothers understand, nothing good happens on the school bus, and no good things are learned. I can directly correlate my colorful vocabulary to daily bus rides. Mom, you have no one else to blame but yourself. You're welcome.)

...sorry, I digressed...I basically dropped the mic on everything and everyone that weekend and that week. Enough was enough. Tired of giving and not getting, I decided to be honest with myself and everyone around me. No, I wasn't ok; no, everything isn't fine...and here's how I really feel. 

Not only did I feel better, I started seeing results from my candid communication. I wasn't accusatory - after all, it's not their fault I was giving in to everyone else's needs and wants and losing myself - I was just honest. Finding myself making decisions based on what everyone else wanted was not working for my well being. So, I told everyone, I was no longer going to do that. Life and relationships in families and among friends is about compromise, but I was done compromising when no else was willing to do it for me. 

When we stop to remember that our well being isn't optional and putting everyone else first, while it may seem heroic and selfless, is not good for us, we can begin to lean back, relax and enjoy life. It always goes back to setting reasonable personal boundaries and saying "no" whenever we can to the things that do not bring us joy so that we can say "yes" to the things that do. Being upfront about what we want and expect from a relationship - whether it be a spouse or significant other or even a parent - can be likewise liberating. 

I still have more work to do in this area, especially where my relationships are concerned -  I totally treasure the invention of caller ID - but finally being able to say "this is what I want; this is what I need and if you're not going to honor that, it's ok but don't expect to spend time with me/for me to do what you want because I deserve to receive what I am asking of you" seems to have everyone in my life on the same page as me.

I sent this text to a family member last week: "you're asking me to rearrange my schedule for you again, but you have refused to accommodate my schedule when I ask the same thing of you.  I would appreciate it if I can expect the same level of compromise and respect from you going forward." More on-edge, frustrated Lauren, might have sent an accusatory, "you always do this to me! Go figure it out!" type text (and I know this because that's what happened the week before. That reaction got me no where but elbow deep in a bag of Tostitos), but I took a breath and sent what I sent. I suppose that message resonated because I leaned back and opened up honestly.

I equate the concept of leaning back to opening up, of being forthright. Perhaps leaning back is equal parts honesty and settling the F down (yup, there it is again, mom).  I cannot expect the people around me to stop taking advantage of my accommodating nature when I do not set the boundaries that would prevent that from occurring.  Perhaps my insecurities have interfered with my ability to do this. Fearing losing a relationship or angering someone by telling them how I truly feel has prevented me from being forthright in the past. But I'm working on it. 

####

Those of you who follow me on social media may have noticed a change in logo and law firm name. While I quietly tried to make the transition to my new "next, big thing" I soon recognized that nothing I do is quiet. I have no inside voice. Ask my sisters who have no problem shushing me in public and reminding me, "that's not a whisper, dummy."

Alas, I am proud to announce the dawn of The Fraser Firm, Attorneys at Law, LLC. And by "attorneys" I pretty much mean me, but my amazingly talented lady lawyer friend and colleague, Luisa Fuentes is also joining me, of counsel, in this new venture. My former lady lawyer partner has chosen to pursue her real estate practice on her own, in a new space, and we wish her well in those endeavors. 

We have a new logo and symbol, designed by my super talented lady boss friend, Jennifer Dahl Domaracki of Dahl House Designs. And we some new practice areas - Injury Law, Family Law, Child Advocacy Law, Municipal Court and Criminal Law. Our main focus continues to be providing effective advocacy for the members of our community. 

I love, love, love working with the ladies in my office. They are super smart, funny, fun, compassionate and hard working. Coming in every day is a pleasure that I look forward to each morning. We are a great team - everyone chips in to make sure whatever needs to be done for our clients, gets done and whatever needs to get done for the office gets done. 

But the lady boss struggle is real. The "any boss" struggle is real, actually. There are times when I'm like, "man, I wonder what the boss would say about this?" and then I remember, that's me. Crap. I have to run payroll and pay the vendors and utilities. I have to buy the equipment and furniture and plastic spoons we never seem to have enough of and the copier paper. I have to create the marketing plan, execute it and pay for it. And I have to run a law practice. I need an adult. This is crap. 

Over the years, I have been relatively successful in creating partnerships through my establishment of WEN (the Women's Entrepreneurial Network) as well as my relationships with other professionals and lawyers throughout the country. Something that has really motivated me to tighten my belt even more and keep going as a lady entrepreneur are those connections, many of whom have really come through with tremendous advice, support and case referrals. 

Starting a business from literally nothing (although I did manage to bring my really good stapler from the old firm, so I did have that) has been the most difficult and stressful thing I have ever tried to do. It's expensive and is requiring far more sacrifice than I was willing to acknowledge or able to foresee at the outset of this adventure. Having no financial safety net is no picnic either. Banks don't lend to risky endeavors like personal injury law practices. They just don't.

So as I struggle to accept that manicures and pedicures are actually luxuries and not necessities and that I may have bitten off just about as much as I can chew here, I am still inspired not to "sell out" and join another stuffy, big firm. My vision for an all woman trial law practice was and still is an important goal. There aren't enough of us out there - or perhaps the opportunity to be a trial lawyer while still being a mom and ninja warrior at some other guy's law firm isn't a viable option, as I found. I believe we have to create our own opportunities and make our own way. So that's what I am attempting to provide with my firm; a platform for lady trial lawyers to start something new, that's all their own. 

I suppose if it was easy, everyone would be doing it and The Fraser Firm wouldn't be all that special. But we are special and we have something special here. That much I know. Our struggle will be soon celebrated in a year or so when my vision has truly come to fruition. For now, we will eat Mac n Cheese, drink store brand seltzer and work harder than we ever have to make the dream a reality. 

​###

​I know, I'm on kind of a love kick.  With the state of the world where it is - increased violence everywhere, terror, clowns running our government both nationally and at the state and local levels, (sorry, not trying to get political, but WTF people?  Is this the best we can come up with America?) and everyone angry about something, there is a comfort in knowing at the end of the day we get to shut out the world and spend quality time watching "Stranger Things" on Netflix with someone we love.

​So everything sucks. The world sucks. The dinner I just made sucks. And it's November, cold and dark and watching Winona Ryder as "Joyce" is as stressful as reviewing my depleted bank account statement.  Oh and the Kindle battery is dead. What to do?

​Shuffling through my limited apartment library (Note to everyone: when I climb out of this temporary hole in the upside-down, my library is going to be pretty off the hook. Maybe not "Beast" library off the hook, which has always been my dream, but it's going to be good.), I found my copy of Gary Chapman's book, "The Five Love Languages." This book came recommended to me a long time ago by a lot of people who had gone through rough patches in their relationships and thought at that time, it could help me. Shocker, it didn't. Not because it isn't a good book with very helpful insights, but because at that time in my life, what I believed to be a rough patch was actually the eye of the shit-storm. Rediscovering why we "fell in love" and bringing that love back was NOT at the top of my priority list back then. I had other discoveries to make.

Nevertheless, something drew me back to this book and I'm glad I re-read it. It's about communication, something I always thought I was fairly adept at. But really, I'm good at talking and never shutting the hell up, as most people will tell you. Professionally and in the court room, I have the innate ability to know when I've made my point, should shut up and sit down. Personally, as we all know, I overshare and can chat your ear off. I know.  That's  a major flaw of mine and on the top of my "To Do List" for being less of an assh*le in life.

Communicating my needs in a relationship however, is something I have never been good at and the reason why goes back to overthinking (Should I say that? Will that make him mad at me? Is it too much? Will he think I'm being too needy or too selfish? Will he think I'm crazy? Does he even feel that way about me?) Sometimes I say way, way too much too soon. Other times, I don't say enough.

If I just relax and let relationships develop organically, probably a lot of the second guessing wouldn't happen. Reading about the 5 Love Languages was a helpful exercise, surprisingly. As described in the book, the 5 Love Languages are: Words of Affirmation (more than just saying I love you, giving compliments and encouragement, showing gratitude and appreciation); Quality Time (eliminating distractions and spending time doing things you both enjoy doing together and having meaningful conversations); Receiving Gifts (meaningful tokens and expressions of love, not necessarily jewelry or cars); Acts of Service (doing the things your partner needs and wants help doing like chores or child care); and Physical Touch (physical intimacy, hand holding, touching). 

The kicker is realizing that your partner may not speak the same love language you do. For me, I appreciate all 5, but the two I need most to "fill me empty tank," as Chapman refers to it, according to his quiz are first Physical Touch followed by Words of Affirmation, and those make sense.

Intimacy is an important part of any relationship, certainly.  Holding hands has more intimate meaning for me than sex. When someone wraps me in their arms and I can feel, touch and smell them, there is a magical feeling I get, like electricity. Not with anyone, obviously, but without wandering into TMI territory, when Benjamin holds me, everything that was ever wrong with me, with him or with us, is just right. Just watching TV with his hand on my knee brings me a peace that I don't believe I have ever experienced before. It's special, it's real, it's safe, and it feels like home. It's a reassurance of his love.  No words, just a feeling.

​Words of Affirmation also makes perfect sense for me. My greatest complaint in any relationship I have had is not feeling appreciated and feeling I was being taken for granted. Saying thank you for something someone is doing or has done for us should not be so difficult and yet, some people just can't get to a point where they can say, "Hey, that thing you did for me that you didn't have to do, thank you." 

As I was reading this portion of the book, I started reflecting on all the times I had been disappointed in a relationship because I would do, do, do and receive no acknowledgement whatsoever. It led to resentment and the breakdown of the relationship. I felt invisible, like an employee or a roommate. And for whatever reason, reaching for someone's hand and having them not take mine is as hurtful as telling me they don't love me. 

So what if you do all those things, hold hands, have intimate moments, tell each other "thank you" for all the things we appreciate and the other person still isn't happy? Chapman says it's because we're not speaking the same love language. What one of us needs to fill the empty tank may be different than what someone else needs and we need to discover that other language to revive the love that began at the outset of the relationship.

Chapman reminds us that the first year of a relationship is about "falling in love" and it's fleeting.  It's not what real love is. We are so busy trying to get to know the other person and letting them "check all of our love boxes" that we just fall into them. It's exciting - we do everything we can to impress them and we create a chemistry through activities that bond us to one another. But once life and reality begins to set in, those falling in love feelings dissipate, which is the natural course. And that's when relationships worth keeping reveal themselves, but they take work - hard work.

Part of this hard work is recognizing and respecting the other person's language of love and then learning to speak it. What every person needs is different and saying "we're too different, I can't give you what you need" is too easy if a relationship is worth holding on to and growing. But we have to want to open communication with the other person.

Sadly, some people are just too selfish or even narcissistic to ever truly want to or try to give themselves to another person and give that person what they need too. But thinking about the people who recommended this book to me, many of whom were facing divorce, affairs and general misery in their marriages, I realize that the insights in this book are worth considering. Figuring out your own love language and letting your partner know what it is apparently repaired at least three relationships of which I am aware. They're better than ever, in fact.

​When we meet someone and start dating them, we don't always fall head over heels in love. Even me! Shocking, I know. But when we do, there is something special there and something worth saving. Communicating how we feel seems to be one of the greatest tools we have to keep the love flower alive and blooming. 

For Gary Champman's quiz on Discovering Your Love Language, visit here: http://www.5lovelanguages.com/profile/couples/.


###

It's been a few months and although a lot has happened - good, bad, ugly and wonderful - I found myself without the words or the energy to talk or write about any of it. Unrelenting stress will do that to a person. I find it strips me of any desire to do anything.  But that is not to say I've been stressed out for the entire time I have been absent from the blogosphere, because I certainly have not. I enjoyed some very wonderful experiences with some very wonderful people this summer and those memories will always be treasures to me. 

The last few months have been particularly difficult. After emotional and basically awful negotiations, it seems my divorce agreement is complete. The road to get there was long and filled with swear words that I may or may not have invented to appropriately express my feelings, rather heated exchanges, a lot of tears, pointing fingers and bad math. But we're there. The court will have me a legally single girl in a matter of weeks (hopefully). And in an effort to move on and start a new life, I gave up a heck of a lot, which may prove to be an enormous mistake in the end, but my sanity (what little is left) needed to be done. Let's just say, it's a good thing I enjoy mac n cheese from a box. 

I realized so much more than I wanted to in this process - about myself, friendship and love. Ever the optimist, I desperately clung to the notion that there is a silver lining and definitely a happy ending just around the corner. Turns out, I needed new glasses. Also turns out, that I am full of it. The happy ending I once saw disappeared before my eyes. Devastated isn't even a strong enough word for how I feel having lost relationships over all of this. 

I do apologize for my negativity, but I think I have earned the right to some venting and this is my blog so I can write what I please. Let's just be grateful there hasn't been any cursing...yet. There are so many Pinterest quotes and memes that have instructed me that I deserve people who can appreciate all of me - all of my assets, my flaws, my weirdness, my craziness - and I shouldn't have to beg to be loved by a man or a friend. Even Yoda reminds me of these things. But none of that empowering knowledge prevents the emptiness I feel. Loneliness is the worst feeling in the world and it's my current home address. Family and friends have all abandoned me through the process of seeking my legal freedom. It's awful.

And this is why I have cats, by the way. All I need to do is feed them and scratch their heads and the love is unconditional. Cats don't care how insecure I am or how much I need to be loved. And what's great is they can sense my emotions. When I am overwhelmed by the sadness brought on by my reality, they offer me their support. I can't even begin to count how often I have melted into my couch in a puddle of sad and they have rallied around me, rubbing and purring and snuggling. They get me. I can't even get a text from my (now former) best friends. 

I have no game plan other than closing down shop for now. Closed for renovations. And I'd like to think that the love I so desperately seek will find me just as soon as I stop pushing so hard for it, because that's what some of those other inspirational Pinterest quotes inform me. But I know I overdo things, which clearly has the opposite affect of what I intend, and so I'm just going to stop doing so much and start simply being. 

I've never been great at letting go or moving on.  I always remember the beginning - when everything was fireworks and butterflies and coming up roses. There's a song by Feist called Let it Die and these lyrics ring true: "The saddest part of a broken heart isn't the ending so much as the start." 

Perhaps the saddest part is that I can't even muster the emotional soldiers to be angry or resentful. Instead, I am just disappointed in myself that I missed the train barreling down on me. I could have avoided the misery. Instead, I am second guessing my judgment and my heart. The saddest part is that someone like me, with so much love to give and who gives it out freely and unconditionally is once again left holding the bag. Lucky for the cats, I suppose. 

Until morale improves, I'll be on my couch, drinking wine, eating olives and string cheese while binge watching something apropos - probably something with Sarah Jessica Parker in it - and rubbing cat heads. I dare someone to come up with a more pathetic visual. 

###

Where the heck have I been? Two months since my last post and life has taken some amazing turns.  As if the Universe directed fortune directly at me, all great things have happened, furthering my belief that the energy you put out into the Universe will be returned. (Positive vibes, people!) So here is what you've missed, friends:

1. I'm engaged...ok, not like you think. I'm engaged to be a partner in a new professional endeavor. And the "marriage" will officially take place on June 1st and Fraser Cerra, LLC, Attorneys at Law will be opening the doors of its office on July 3rd.  I am partnering with one of my most brilliant colleagues, Janine, to offer legal representation to the permanently injured and those facing serious criminal charges in our community. 

2. My dream trial lawyer consulting firm, Full Court, is also open for business! Here I've teamed up with another amazingly talented lady boss, Kathleen, and we have Full Court Trial Strategies and Full Court Marketing Consulting. I'm the Trial Strategies guy!  I will continue to travel all over the country to meet with personal injury attorneys to help them develop trial strategies to maximize recoveries for their permanently injured clients. Also, I'll be speaking at events for the professional organizations to which I belong, and I will be launching a digital video training series on our website. Similarly, Kathy will continue to offer consulting and training for law offices on cost-effective content media marketing strategies, and she will also be developing a video training series. 

3. I'm doing a show!! Finally!!  Since my dream of playing Elle Woods in "Legally Blonde: The Musical" has been put on hold (indefinitely), I took matters into my own hands by partnering with the Mohawk House and another talented lady, Rozanne.  We will be producing an original Prohibition-era murder mystery dinner theater musical!  I wrote the script and with the help of an amazing cast and the Mohawk House, the curtain goes up in October.  Even better, we are supporting one of my favorite organizations with this production, the 200 Club, a group that provides financial support for the families of fallen police officers and first responders.

4. Benjamin and I are doing great. He's still my favorite human next to my daughter.  And although we talk about towels more than any dating couple probably should, we aren't picking out any from Bed Bath and Beyond quite yet. Nevertheless, I am having a wonderful time getting to know him. The Universe definitely heard and responded to my pleas when it sent this guy my way. (*sigh) 

5. The Salt Shaker Trail Running Club season has started. I'm not ready, but I'm trying. Mostly, I'm trying not to die or injure myself before my June 3rd dance recital. But Tuesday night runs just give me another opportunity to see my Benjamin and a lot of other really cool people before I have to run off to dance class.  My first planned 5K race isn't until mid-June so I do have some time to get my act together in the next few weeks. 

6. My daughter kicked butt at her dance competition!  I was most proud of how serious she took her rehearsals leading up to the competition and of the fact that she did everything I asked her to do. Adorable and coachable?  Whose kid is this?

​So, it's been an eventful and exciting few months for me. I finally feel like I am on the right path with the right people doing the right things.  I spoke at a lawyer conference out in Las Vegas in early April and met some amazing trial attorneys who have been so kind, generous and supportive of me once they heard of my plans for Fraser Cerra and everything else I'm attempting. Surrounding myself with positive people and energy has certainly paid off.  

This is only one of the reasons I absolutely adore my Benjamin, by the way - for the last 9+ months, he has been one of the most encouraging and supportive people to ever come into my life. I tell him that for every 5 bad or ill-conceived ideas I have, there's always one really good one, so if he just lets me vet the bad ones, he can help me find the good one. He's such a good sounding board and he is tolerant of both my baby goat obsession and my morning chattiness, which is a very good thing. He also cooks chicken perfectly on the grill. Definitely a keeper.

Let's hope the next two months are equally as wonderful as the last two! I've missed sharing with you - and I'll be back soon enough with more updates.  

​### 

We are guided by successful leaders, entrepreneurs and entertainers to follow our dreams and pursue those particular things that light a fire within us.  In my mid 20's, I resented those overly enthusiastic and positive millionaires who were quoted in articles saying things like "every accomplishment starts with the decision to try" and "believe in what you want so much that is has no choice but to materialize." I would mutter "screw you guys; you don't have law school loans to pay off the rest of your life."  It was very difficult to look past the present and see what was awaiting me in the future when I was concerned about whether I was going to overdraw my checking account...again.

As I settled into my law career in my 30's, I began working on cases that were challenging and meaningful.  I was helping people - not only random people, members of my community.  I was working on cases for men and women with whom I went to grammar school and high school, their parents, my teachers, their friends. I saw the importance of the work I was doing and with a strong sense of purpose, I worked hard to succeed on their behalf.  I advocated, I continued to learn and improve the ways I presented my cases.  As a result of this elevated sense of purpose, I helped build a law firm, a practice group and a brand.

It wasn't until about 5 or 6 years ago that the fire that was driving me to succeed in this area of law began to die when I realized that it wasn't enough for me. Certainly, I appreciated the opportunity to develop and hone my trial skills, the chance to be recognized throughout the state of New Jersey and even nationally for my accomplishments and I was aware that had I worked anywhere else, I would probably never have been provided the resources and platform to become the trial attorney I had become at such young age.

When my daughter was born in 2011, I finally had to take a break. And I did for about 4 weeks, but while my baby napped, I was working.  Part time hours at first, but then I recognized I was putting in more time. She napped a lot in those early months and I never stopped.

Of course, I wanted to be with my baby and soak in as much time with her as possible. But I was getting the impression that my absence from the office was being felt far more than I imagined it would - cases and clients needed my attention, the office needed my positive energy.  And I was made aware that after 7 successful and hard working years, obtaining partnership status, the goal of most any lawyer in a law firm, required my return to full time status. So I came back early. Despite the impression that I would be rewarded for my unending dedication and loyalty to my clients and my firm, partnership did not come for another 13 months. 

In those 13 months, I watched my daughter develop her personality through cell phone pictures sent to me by our amazing nanny. (Ouch!) I longed to be home with her more during the day, but luckily, the flexibility that comes with success did allow me to make time to spend with her, which was always appreciated. However, that time away from the office and the files created another problem - I had lost a step. Suddenly, my confidence wavered as I argued a motion before a judge or presented an opening statement before a jury. I was out of practice and rusty, which created an enormous amount of anxiety I never possessed. Afraid of failing, I began to pass opportunities for trial work over to a younger associate, which allowed me to spend more time with my daughter, but also pushed me further away from the court room where just 2 years before, I had set another record for another successful verdict. 

And as I watched other members of my team succeed and gain the recognition and spotlight I had just stepped out from, I began to feel unneeded and unwanted and most unfortunately, unfulfilled. All the "uns" I felt began to lead me further into the world of resentment.

It was in this time that I wrote and published Trinity so I had the luck of a very good distraction as I traveled around from bookstore to bookstore and school to school selling my story and meeting "fans" (and not all of them are related to me, by the way.) I tried to reinvent myself at the law firm, taking on more management-like responsibilities and immersing myself in the area of marketing, a creative role I enjoyed  Really, I was not and never was a true business partner of the firm, I was just a better paid W-2 employee with management responsibilities. And my complaints about that status were disregarded in what I can only describe as a case of reverse-nepotism. Enter more resentment. 

It was also during this time that I began the Women's Entrepreneurial Network (WEN) because for the very first time, I identified with the unique challenges and needs of women in business and thought maybe I could help provide some support and resources to other women in business in my community.  I needed inspiration and hoped I could provide some too. Balancing motherhood and professional fulfillment became a goal of mine and as far as everyone could see, I was doing it - well. Only I knew how I struggled. 

In April of 2014 it was clear to me, through a tearful conversation with my best friend over a glass of wine after a successful all-day retreat for WEN that I was incredibly unhappy. Unhappy in my marriage, even though I pretended otherwise, unhappy at work and generally unfulfilled in my life. I was being pulled from one obligation to another, I was tired, out of shape and miserable.

On the positive side, I was back to meeting the challenges of a trial lawyer and litigator when I was given an opportunity to work on a really high stakes commercial litigation case outside of my comfort zone. The partner with whom I was working helped restore my confidence and love of new challenges. I believed I was starting to make my professional comeback.

But there were nagging questions running through my mind all the time. What was I working for? Fancy car payments? Status? What energized me when I first started my career?  Where did my passion go? Why did I suck so badly? Why was I so insecure?  

It dawned on me a few months later what the problem was - but the solution was going to be painful and complicated. I needed to rediscover the things that made me excited to wake up in the morning. I recognized that I needed to be creating.  Being imaginative and coming up with my "ridiculously good ideas" was what lit my passion fire - whether it was developing different ways to present evidence at trial, or troubleshooting important issues effecting the legal profession, or writing a story, or developing a cutting edge marketing plan - I needed creative challenges.  

I've been traveling this uncertain road, looking for a way out of the woods, for some time. Almost three years later, I'm still untangling the tentacles of my old life from the promise of my new one. The challenge of leaving behind a sense of comfort is greater than I imagined, but with the help of some really amazing people in my life, many of whom I met through WEN, I'm doing it. My daughter will be better for it and so will I.

Now, I wake up every morning with new ideas for helping lawyers obtain success for their clients, with new ideas for books I want to write, new concepts for marketing law firms. I'm confident because I know I am good at what I do. I have a proven track record of success and have been fortunate enough to have been recognized for my success time and again. So I know it's time to forge out on my own and make my way. 

I am told by countless Pinterest quotes penned by successful people that believing in myself and what I can do will ultimately lead me to a new level of success.  Visualizing myself in this new capacity is the first step so I daydream about it all the time.  I now have a map so I know the roads I need to take and I have chosen my travel partners this time. 

Finally, I am in a position to own my destiny. I even have a coffee mug that says "Lady Boss," which probably says it all. I still have work to do, but I'm closer than ever to my greatest comeback yet. Stay tuned, y'all.

###

 I am one of those people who get a little sad when a book I am reading is near the end.  Chances are, I've spent a number of days and hours becoming acquainted with the characters and their plights, the time period and setting, and maybe I don't want the story to end. But it does.  And then I move on to the next book. That's how reading works, right?
 
What I find interesting about this analogy is that despite feeling a little disappointed when a story ends, I find some joy and hope knowing I'm now ready to start a new book, perhaps an even more exciting story.  And yet this morning, this literary hopefulness is not translating. 
 
There is an obvious fear of the unknown that we all carry with us. We become comfortable in our stories, even when they are sad or perhaps toxic because there is a level of comfort in our own chaos. We know how to handle at least some of the characters there.  Perhaps we are a little unsure of the twists and turns of the plot, but we at least understand part of the pattern of the story. We may even convince ourselves that we are happy and safe because leaving the current pages of our own books is so incredibly daunting.
 
I need to turn the page.  There is no other way to make it to the end of this current book I am holding and start a new story. I've known this for months, but it wasn't until late last night that this analogy hit home.  Avoiding the inevitable just prolongs agony.
 
Once again, Pinterest came through for me and offered me this quote: "When you find no solution to a problem, it's probably not a problem to be solved, but rather a truth to be accepted."
 
Whoa.
 
I've spent nearly three years spinning my wheels trying to creatively solve a massive conundrum. I've exhausted myself, cried myself to sleep, cried my way to afternoon school dismissal, cried my way through Gilmore Girls re-runs and i-Tunes playlists. I've written about it and talked about it endlessly. I've done everything short of driving myself crazy (and I've probably done that too)  to try and solve this puzzle when there is no solution other than to turn the page. 
 
The truth that needs to be accepted is that I deserve more - from other people, from myself. And not to turn this into an Oprah style self esteem rant, but maybe we all forget who we are. I know I have. Every so often a glimmer of the fire that kept my cold coal engine running flares back up and I remember a layer of confidence - and not the fake smiling stuff I put out now to hide my insecurities- I mean the voice inside of me that used to drive me to take on challenges and to walk away from people who stood in the way of my success and happiness. 
 
I know I have given more of myself  to people who have no intention or perhaps no ability to give back to me. Emotionally, that is a lonely place to sit expecting or at least hoping for a little something in return and it never really comes. There is no question that I wear my heart on my sleeve and I admit to feeling more than the average person feels, but there is also no excuse anymore when people take advantage of me. If you can't give back to me at some level of intensity near to mine, then I have to get to the next page, and turn.
 
As painful as that is, the truth that has to be accepted is that turning the page is the only way to advance my story and maybe some characters are not in the next chapter. Or maybe, they come back at the end, just in the nick of time (I really have to remind myself to look up why we say "in the nick of time." Who is Nick?). Either way, until the page turns, we can never know. 
 
That's my sobering and sad reality today. It's been my sad reality for some time, but one that I was not ready to face. I don't give up on anything - love, family, Eli Manning and his offense, or friends. The last thing I wanted to do this year was walk away from the world I have known for so long, but it is clear there is no other way. 
 
The positive take away here is that I'm closer to settling down with a new story - new characters, a new setting and a new plot. I'm terrified, if I am being truly honest. And so, I'm going to read slowly, take my time.  Now that I have committed to beginning a new book, I can fully immerse myself in the story.  And maybe, just maybe, I will enjoy it more and the last book, as powerful as it was, will be a nice memory. 
 
The thing about books - whether they travel with us in paper or on our tech devices - is that we can always re-open them and start them again. For now, my old book will be on a shelf in between Sense & Sensibility and Rabbit, Run. A good spot for a good story I once didn't want to end. 

 

I've only been running somewhat consistently since about April of 2014. My initial goals had been fairly simple: 1) don't die (probably a good goal to have in any activity, really); 2) run a 5K (and don't die while doing it).

But since becoming a runner, and meeting and surpassing those initial goals, I've had to develop new ones so that I remain engaged in the sport. So I would set new personal record goals for myself and work toward taking time off of my 5K race time. I still haven't met the goal I set 2 years ago, to finish a 5K under 26 minutes, but I've been close and I'm sure I'll get there. I set a goal to not throw up after a race anymore, and that I have met thanks to Benjamin. So I've got that going for me, which is really a good thing for anyone within a close distance of me at the finish line.

Now I've moved on from quicker race times - and by the way, I'm not trying to win anything. Occasionally, 4 times to be exact, I earn a medal in my age group, but I'm really just trying to improve my time from year to year for each race. I've moved to trying to increase my distance. Up until this summer, the farthest distance I had run was probably 3 1/2 miles. That was until I joined the Salt Shakers.

I had been invited to join the Salt Shakers for years by my good friend, Dina. But I was intimidated. These guys are hard core. They run up the sides of mountains - 5, 6, 10 miles. A lot of them (including my brother in law and Benjamin) ran the NYC Marathon. They do Spartan races and Ragnar races. Like I said, hard core. I didn't think trail running was something within my wheelhouse, having limited myself to 5Ks on fairly even ground or at best the flat and straight "rail-trails". There's always the asthma too.

It took meeting Benjamin and creating an excuse to see him late this summer to get me to attempt my first trail run with this group. At first, I took it easy and did just over 3 miles with a few of the "injured" members of the group. But the next run, I figured I would at least attempt the full 5 miles and maybe walk if I had to. One of the nice things about trail running is that you have to slow down at times so that your run becomes more of a hike anyway. Needless to say, I completed the full 5 miles and now I was hooked.

The runs are challenging for me as a newbie, but equally as wonderful as an evening trail run, is the group itself. Some of the most supportive and generous people on the planet. They cheer you on, they wait for you if you are falling behind the pack, and are always finding ways to give back to community groups. And they are so much fun. To congratulate ourselves for a job well done after the run, we head to the bar for a beer (or 2). What's better than that?

The Salt Shakers are a large and diverse group - men, women, younger, older, runners, walkers - and besides a love for the outdoors and fitness, the other thing they all seem to have in common is a desire to help others. Whether it's through raising money for non-profit groups that offer free breast cancer screenings or volunteering as coaches for the Girls on the Run program or taking a day to clean up the trails, these guys give back.

I've always found that true athletes have a different mind-set than your average dude at the gym. True athletes know they didn't get where they are without the help of a lot of other people and so many of them have a natural instinct to help not only their fellow athlete, but their fellow human. Maybe some of the professional guys have public relations as motivation, but they still do it and they still do good things.

But I am also finding that these trail runners just do it a little better. Perhaps it's because everyone knows running is the worst. It sucks in so many ways. It's hard on your body, first of all (talk to my right knee and shins; they'll tell you.) and it's hard on your mind. There is a constant battle between the you who is saying "Ok, this sucks, I hurt, I'm done" and the you saying "Come on, you can do this." Runners all know that, so when they cheer for you and encourage you, they also feel your pain.

I'm lucky because I have a sister (who also happens to be an elite athlete) who runs with this group. Since she's coming back from a really bad injury, she has to work a little harder to get to where she once was, physically. Mentally, she knows that she can "do it."

And she was my inspiration this Sunday as we joined a group of cold-weather Salt Shakers for the Highland Challenge. Now, my sister and I only attempted about half of the 9+ mile, up a mountain, full course, but it was still more running than either of us had done in months. (And we ended up adding at least .5 miles to our run because we missed a turn on the trail and had to go back). My sister knew she could tackle this run and I figured, if she can do it coming off a broken ankle and very little exercise because of it, then so could I. And if I couldn't, at least she was there to carry me off the snowy and freezing trail since Benjamin was running the whole course and would probably be traversing the side of the mountain, while I was complaining.

Well, I ran the entire 5+ miles and stayed close to my sister the whole way. When we weren't running together, I took deep breaths and took in the beautiful snowy trail, the fresh air, the flowing water of the Morris Canal. A few of us were running close together (because we all missed that first turn off the road) and so we would wait for one another to make sure no one got lost. I loved every moment of it.

Upon returning to the home base (the bar), we all greeted one another with "how was it?" "how did you do?" and "great job today." And there was great beer on tap.

​I'm grateful that I finally took my friend's advice and showed up this summer and that Benjamin also encouraged me to try. I'm grateful that my sister and brother in law are there to motivate me. And I'm grateful that this group is so welcoming, giving and wonderful. I'm looking forward to longer days, more sun and the trail this summer with this group.

Ps. Although I did feel it necessary to carry my inhaler because of the below freezing temperature we were running in, I didn't need it! So, there's that too!

​###

As many of you know, I have a strange interest in the British monarchy​ and British royal history. Mostly, I enjoy the political intrigue that went along with the ebb and flow of the royal rule throughout history.  And of course, built in to any lengthy history are the epic romances.

Most famous perhaps is Henry VIII and the Lady Anne Boleyn, a romance that helped usher the Protestant Reformation into England.  Henry's love and perhaps obsession with the Lady Anne altered the course of English politics, society and religion, much to the chagrin of Rome. There are many biographical versions of the tumultuous but passionate relationship between Henry and Anne, but the most logical and compelling was that Henry was madly in love.  He was no longer in love with his wife, Queen Katherine -  he resented her for what he perceived to be an inability to produce a male heir - and worked to find a way out of his marriage to be with Anne, who he saw as the solution to everything from birthing an heir to maintaining his youth, which he longed for.  Some might say that Harry had a bit of a mid-life crisis. 

 But Anne and Henry's desire for one another was the catalyst for tremendous social and political change in Britain.  This love affair did not end well for Anne, of course.  The same forces that helped her rise, turned against her and her family, initiated her downfall, and replaced her with the demure and Catholic Jane Seymour. As with Anne, this was all family ambition and politics at play.  Anne's family offered her more or less as a mistress to the King, like her sister before her, but Anne played her own game.  

Many if not most versions of this story portray Anne as someone who manipulated her way into the arms of the most powerful man in the world.  But closer examination of the political climate and Henry's personality tell a slightly different story.  Likely, they were passionately in love but the allure of the forbidden fruit wore off once Henry divorced Katherine and married Anne.  His whole purpose for papal reform was now irrelevant since he received what he wanted and so the political forces and noble families who desired a return to the church helped push that along by convincing Henry (who was still without a male heir) that the Boleyns needed to go.

He couldn't divorce Anne; he had no grounds.  So those around the King miraculously found him some grounds (adultry and incest - neither of which were true, but it was easy to bully courtiers into providing circumstantial evidence) and Anne stood trial, was found guilty and executed for treason against her love, the King of England. Thomas Boleyn, whose ambition led Anne to the chopping block, sacrificed his own daughter (and son) for power and property.  In the end, Anne sacrificed her life for the love of a King. Henry went on to four more wives. 

Then there is the story of Edward VIII and Mrs. Wallis Simpson.  400 hundred years after Anne's head was lopped off into a basket, David Windsor, King Edward VIII abdicated his throne when it was clear that neither his family nor Parliament nor the Cabinet would allow his marriage to the "woman he loved."  It was rumored that Mrs. Simpson began her relationship with David, who after abdicating became known as the Duke of Windsor, while still married to her second husband.  After David Windsor succeeded to the throne upon the death of his father, and took the name King Edward, Wallis was divorced from her husband.  It was clear the new King intended to marry Wallis. But a union with a twice married and twice divorced Amercian socialite from Pennsylvania nearly caused a British Constitutional crisis.

While not the ultimate sacrifice, King Edward VIII sacrificed the crown, his birthright and much of his livelihood (relatively speaking, of course - he lived in a palace for goodness sake) to marry the "woman he loved" in 1936.  (Or as his mother Queen Mary referred to Wallis Simpson, "that woman.")

His brother, Albert, who became King George VI then succeeded to the throne followed by HRH Queen Elizabeth II. Although formally known as the Duchess of Windsor, Wallis was not titled Her Royal Highness, but rather "Her Grace," a term reserved for non royal dukes and duchesses. The royal family was sure to keep "that woman" in her place and they did for many years as the couple traveled between homes in the US and Europe. 

While the story of Anne and Henry has always been compelling to me, now that I am binge watching The Crown on Netflix, the story of King Edward in particular, strikes a chord.  I hear refrains of "What I Did for Love" playing in my head from the Broadway musical, A Chorus Line.  There are those of thus who act with our hearts and those of us who do not.  In the end, I wonder who is happier?

We all know what happened in the marriage of Prince Charles and Diana Spencer.  What appears to be good on paper, isn't always so good.  When we enter into a relationship because it seems to "make sense" or "is the right thing to do" aren't we just setting ourselves up (those of us who live by our hearts instead of our heads) to be unfulfilled and resentful down the road?  Or is it the other way, that the relationships we enter with fire and passion end up fizzling when life gets in the way? Or is the best approach to find the fire and keep it lit with all the things that make sense - similar life passions, activities, respect, emotional support?

I don't know the answers.  That's why I'm asking.  If you haven't taken note of my track record, I'm super bad at this. 

Henry fought for his love of Anne for at least 6-7 years.  He changed the law, he changed religion.  And when she gave birth to Elizabeth and not a boy and then lost 2 pregnancies, Henry began to regret all he gave up for love.

It is difficult to tell if the Duke of Windsor regretted walking away from the royal life and the throne of England.  Certainly, it seems that he did not.  He loved his wife deeply and they made a very good life together.  

I've given up a lot for love.  If you read my posts, then you are probably someone who has as well.  Perhaps to most people, my great sacrifice isn't as great as my head or the crown. I gave all of me, gambled and lost the life I knew.  In the long run, maybe that's all all right. I don't know yet; I haven't hit the long run.  I'm still sprinting and trying to catch my breath.  

And despite my "great sacrifice," I'm willing to try it again.  Maybe I'm a hopeless or hopeful romantic or just a glutton for punishment.  I'll try to keep my head and I am more than willing to give up the crown to live a life filled with real love.  

"There is no remedy for love but to love more."

   -Henry David Thoreau.  

###